Liars and Saints

 If you're a gay semi-employed dad during COVID, then you make friends with the (rare) visitors. They are: (1) The handyman. He often seems to be high on pot, and he may or may not arrive for a given appointment. He studies you in a hazy way, and he says, "You know, we have a gay couple at my church.... " And you consider offering your congratulations. Or you could say: "More of ME??? I'll be there on Sunday!" But, instead, a complex silence follows. (2) The plumber. This man meets your husband, then finds you. "I met your friend!" he says. And how can you reply? "My friend, yes. The one with the wedding ring. We live here in chaste bliss, sharing a brew, raising a child together." Give this man his check. Do not call him again. (3) The barber. She is your favorite. She came from Eastern Europe, and she has seen things. If you consider complaining about your privileged life--your occasional boredom, a sense of narrow horizons--then your b

 Sylvia Plath would have celebrated a birthday this week. She is the subject of a buzzy new biography, "Red Comet." The artist Summer Pierre, whose work is included here, took an interest in Plath a few years ago. She read Plath's letters and published a review in the "New Yorker": Pierre made the point that, although Plath is now known (partly) for the grim final weeks of her life, Plath was (also) a genius and highly effective.  It's tough to become a world-renowned poet if you're a slouch. Plath was publishing in national magazines when she was a teenager; she encouraged her husband, who had far less professional knowledge; she wrote "The Bell Jar" in six weeks, while also raising her daughter. (People don't point out when a male writer is "also a dad!" ....Fair enough, but something tells me the bulk of the child-rearing work in the Plath/Hughes household was *not* going to Ted Hughes.) Summer Pierre uses wonderful details in

 "Borat 2: Subsequent Moviefilm" (I imagine I'm getting the title wrong) concerns a monkey.  The people of Kazakhstan have appointed a monkey to a high-ranking government post--and now, in a bid to earn Trump's attention, Borat must try to present the monkey (a gift) to Mike Pence. However, Borat's fifteen-year-old daughter has ambitions; she wants to see America. (Borat seems surprised to discover that his daughter exists. And, at fifteen, she is "NOT MARRIED YET?" Borat faints.) B's daughter smuggles herself in a crate with the aforementioned monkey, but, in transit, she gets hungry, and she eats the monkey. So Borat decides he will actually present his *daughter* to Pence, as a gift. The daughter has a makeover ("I feel like Melania!"), and further hijinks ensue. Everything builds to the Giuliani scene, which is uncomfortable and a bit mean, and also not the funniest part of the movie. (For me, the really memorable part involves Borat si

 Recently, I coached a student through a college-application process. It occurred to me that many readers will need to do this at one time or another (as parents, or aunts, or uncles), so I'm collecting a few thoughts here: (1) Don't talk down. Treat the kid as an adult. If he voices frustration, that's a good thing. (If there isn't a struggle, there isn't any learning.) If all the material doesn't sink in now, it may nonetheless sink in two years from now. (2) Walk the walk. I think, if you're helping a kid with a college essay, it's only fair that you yourself draft a "college essay." Let the kid see your multiple failures and your rare epiphanies. ("Rare" if you are *yours truly* .....) Do you know how easy it is to wag a finger and say, I told you to write FIVE rough drafts ? Do you know how much harder it is to go ahead and write five rough drafts? Do the drafts from your own point of view--and your finger-wagging will take on ne

 The writer Curtis Sittenfeld loves Toad because "he is the author of his own problems." Toad could have an easy life, but he seems wedded to self-sabotage. Take the story about the swimsuit. Toad could avoid public humiliation, but he makes his vulnerability so obvious, it's as if he *commands* the village to laugh at him. Take the story "Alone." Toad could accept Frog's note at face value. But Toad's neurosis leads to a dark night of the soul; Toad tortures himself. In "Ice Cream," Toad runs off to get a treat. But he doesn't consider the distance of the journey, and he spills melting cream all over his face. The sugary mess attracts sticks, mud clumps, leaves. Witnesses--squirrels, chipmunks--conclude that a monster is on the loose. The story ends with a blind, "horned" Toad falling into a lake. We all admire Lobel for his plotting. But let's take a moment to appreciate the drawings, as well. The cones like spikes sticking

 The movie "Spotlight" turns five years old this season. It's a stranger-comes-to-town narrative. Marty Baron arrives at the "Boston Globe," and he encourages his team to look at that all-powerful institution, the Catholic Church. What follows is horror story after horror story. The reporters first think they're inspecting a small handful of "bad priests," but soon learn it's likely they're inspecting ninety Boston molesters, or more. A survivor explains that, after you've been assaulted by a priest, you "turn to drugs or drinking, or you jump off a bridge." Another survivor spills coffee on himself, because he's so nervous to speak up; his struggle with priests, along with his knowledge of his homosexuality, has been a mighty cross to carry. (This is an indelible two-scene role.) Unforgettably, the venal ring-leader Cardinal Law hands Marty Baron a Bible, as a gift; "I feel the city works best when its major institut

We've made progress. We now have a blow-up ghost in a cat-themed winter hat; the hat is for comfy trick-or-treating. We have a TRICKS/TREATS neon "bar" sign and a terrifying array of paper tombstones. And I've done a fair amount of online reading about pumpkin design.  One suggestion is: Keep it simple. If you want to add a burst of feeling, sketch in two angry eyebrows. My issue is that the actual slicing stage makes me impatient, and I end up cutting off a tooth or a portion of the facial "skin." But knowing the nature of the problem.....is half the battle. Our "spooky viewing" series has grown and changed, and recently we've added: *"Seven." (Not great, but at least David Fincher, in his twenties, had a sense of visual zest. And certainly the *structure* of the script is surprising.) *The rebooted "Unsolved Mysteries," on Netflix. I just can't rate this show highly enough. The music, the ominous re-stagings, the final

 One of my favorite essays in recent months is from a senior at Regis High School: https://www.nytimes.com/2020/09/24/nyregion/regis-catholic-school-racism.html The senior lives in Queens, and his parents are immigrants from Jamaica. He describes standard high-school issues: maintaining one's GPA, studying for the SATs, enduring Zoom burnout, feeling cut-off from one's classmates. But then he looks closely at his own identity, in a way that feels unusual when you're considering a teen's writing. The student, Rainier, mentions racism at Regis, and he spells out precisely the forms racism can take: *Students calling you a "monkey" *Students using the N-word *Students blithely complaining about affirmative action, as if such a program were not one, small, good step toward addressing a major problem *Students turning their gaze on you whenever history teachers address slavery or the civil rights movement *Students mistaking one non-white student for another in a p

One treat of being a tutor is that I'm exposed to a variety of curricular plans, and I can see what works especially well with kids. A student I have has been studying electoral politics over the last several weeks, and though he is in the sixth grade, his assignments have shown sophistication: *Analyze various campaign ads (Obama going after Romney, the famous mushroom-cloud ad, a sunny JFK spot) -- and determine the desired emotional impact. How do words and images create a feeling? How does a positive ad differ from an attack ad? *Analyze McCain's speech in 2008 upon accepting the Republican nomination. Why does he tell stories, and what emotion does he seek to create? (The stories--about autism, joblessness, and having a vet in the family--seem to be templates for a particularly dramatic season of "Friday Night Lights." Also, McCain's grace is--implicitly--a kind of ghost-rebuke to Donald Trump. Do you want to know precisely which norms Trump has shattered? Yo

  The final George and Martha story--published in 1988--is called "The Surprise."    Daffy George has fun with a hose; he can't help but spray Martha, while shouting, HERE COMES THE RAIN! Martha is fed up; George offers only a half-apology. (By this point, these two must know that certain types of character reform are likely impossible.) Martha goes off and has a "dark night of the soul"; she imposes the silent treatment, maybe for a few weeks. In this period of solitude, she continuously stumbles on funny stories, then realizes she can't share her discoveries with her friend. (Martha's solitude is mirrored in the art on this page; one lonely leaf falls from the sky, alone in a sea of white.) Finally, having caved in, Martha skips off with her friend George. The two enjoy their reunion. Their happiness is mirrored in artwork; now, not one leaf, but many leaves, tumble down. No leaf is alone. (In a coda, suggesting that tension and irony will live on, Mar

Last year, at this time, I wrote about ghosts and the Broadway musical. (Show tunes seem to make a great deal of space for ghosts; see Thuy in "Miss Saigon," Fantine in "Les Miz," Cinderella's Mother in "Into the Woods," the son in "Next to Normal," and so on.) This Halloween, my thoughts are turning to witches, and to their importance on Broadway. Everyone first thinks of Elphaba, which is fine, but let's also recall Sondheim's Witch (along with his proto-Witches, Rose and Mrs. Lovett), Ursula the Sea Witch, and Morticia Addams. Also, if we're thinking of a witch as a woman with supernatural powers, how about these nominees: (4) Fruma Sarah, in "Fiddler" (From beyond the grave: I'll come to her by night....I'll take her by the throat..... ) (3) Papa Ge, in "Once on This Island," played by a woman in the most recent B'way revival ( Arrogant fool.....think you can hold back death? This boy is mine..

One of my favorite novelists, Val McDermid, has her new thriller out, at long last.  McDermid is sometimes called the heir to PD James and to Ruth Rendell, but she doesn't really have a massive reputation in the US. It's distressing to me that so many people read "Galbraith," and few of my friends spend time with the works of Val McDermid. Despite not having a "Stephen King" name, McDermid is undeterred; she writes around one novel per year. Some of the books concern Tony Hill and Carol Jordan--wonderfully dysfunctional crime-stoppers. Another series concerns Karen Pirie, who is slightly hot-headed and is also committed to solving a variety of cold cases. The new book--"Still Life"--has Pirie focused on two mysteries. In one corner of Scotland, a woman dies, and a search of her property reveals a human skeleton in the garage. Who could this other corpse be? Was she murdered? How? In another part of Scotland, a man seems to kill his brother, then he

Our son is shifting from formula to whole milk. This entails several adventures; for example, we're now meant to be "brushing J's teeth" on a regular basis. J's pediatrician can say this with a straight face. She can also say: "Just pin him to the ground with your two knees; kneel over him. Then, while he is restrained, swipe a wet washcloth at his gums. That's all. Just get him in the habit." An awkward silence follows. "Yes," I say slowly. "Yes, I'll definitely do that." When the topic comes up again, a few weeks later, I say that the teeth-brushing has been a triumph, and then I quickly change the subject. Whole milk means occasional constipation. Joshua's face will get bright red, and he'll cry, in distress, as he tries to squeeze something out. My husband will become Florence Nightingale, showing deep empathy, recalling his own struggles with a "clogged system." ("Josh, I have BEEN THERE, man....&qu

Again, like most other Americans, Marc and I were enchanted by the Mike Pence fly story a week ago. I'm OK with Jim Carrey as Joe Biden; I thought his first appearance, where he was visibly fighting against his own rage, was passable. (Sure--as Marc points out--Jim Carrey SIMPLY IS NOT ALEC BALDWIN.) I do think the Jim Carrey cameos might have diminishing returns; the most recent script, where Biden/Carrey turns into the protagonist from Cronenberg's "The Fly," didn't really have me in stitches. What I like very much is "The Mike Pence Fly Remix," and its virtue is simplicity. A techno beat begins, in the background. Kamala appears and says, "Let me start....by saying.....you have a fly on your head." This is restated several times, with apparently genuine concern. Mike (unable to act on Kamala's implied advice) ....can only sputter, "I'm pro-fly." And, later: "The reality is....." Kamala flashes Mike a smile of pure

Like most other people, my husband and I are obsessed with Halloween lawn decorations. We enjoy skeletons crawling up walls, spiders on cloth webs, blow-up cats with moving heads, skulls mounted on spikes. We were thinking of trees as mere launchpads; a tree is a spot where you stick a spooky owl or a bat-with-fangs. But a couple of houses in my particular neighborhood have recognized that a tree itself can be so much more. The tree can be the source of fright--the tree, on its own. One 3-D inflatable takes the form of a black tree with green eyes and a green mouth. At another house, a kind of mask has been mounted onto the tree, so it seems as if there is a face growing out of the bark. This leads me to think of one of my favorite directors, Tim Burton, who has regularly made use of trees in his work. Famously, there is the Tree of Death, in "Sleepy Hollow"; I can never follow the plot of this movie, but the tree in question seems to be a gateway to Hell. (The trunk is

  I don't know much about the gay humor writer Paul Rudnick, but I appreciate his artistic series of Tweets on Susan Collins.   In one, featured here, Collins is with her fabulous gay bestie, Lindsey Graham. Lindsey encourages his gal pal to bring out more of "the flirty, fun Susan." Also, Lindsey can't help but give the side-eye to Susan's bangs. More recently, in Paul Rudnick Land, Susan appeared before Amy Barrett to inquire about affordable health care. "Does my being a spineless coward count as a pre-existing condition?" More importantly: "What about my bangs?" Paul Rudnick knows how to spend all his Covid-authored free time. He is a gift to the world.

The great British novelist PD James would have turned 100 in August. PDJ famously began her career in her forties; she wrote several enthralling novels about a tough, practical inspector, Adam Dalgliesh, and she dipped her toes in sci fi and in literary criticism, as well. The standard thing to say about PDJ is that she wasn't "just" a genre writer; she "transcended" mystery conventions. Kingsley Amis said her work was like "a novel by Iris Murdoch." Anita Brookner tipped a hat to PDJ more than once.  I was raised on Agatha Christie plays, so discovering PDJ in my late teens was an important moment. PDJ is like Christie but better--realer, more intelligent. Val McDermid, in discussing PDJ's prose, singles out these sentences: The Manor loomed up out of the darkness, a stark shape against a gray sky pierced with a few high stars. And then the moon moved from behind a cloud and the house was revealed: beauty, symmetry, and mystery bathed in white lig

A movie doesn't need ghosts and goblins to be scary. This Halloween, may I suggest "The Deep End," starring Tilda Swinton? This movie is maybe twenty years old. A beleaguered woman lives on Lake Tahoe with her children; her husband, a naval officer, is away on duty and more or less unreachable. The oldest kid is secretly gay, and he gets involved with a disreputable older man. A fight ensues; the man winds up dead. Tilda must cover up the death--and must wonder if her son is a murderer, and if it's possible/advisable to find out. This movie is like a wicked treatise on situational irony--when an action has the direct opposite of its intended impact. We have certain ideas about family: Our children and our spouses will protect us. But, in "The Deep End," Tilda's husband is a kind of silent antagonist, intolerant toward homosexual people; Tilda's children are almost relentlessly horrible, treating their mother as a punching bag. For support, Tilda turn

There are a few things to notice about Pete Buttigieg's verbal skill (skill that seems to be unmatched right now, unless maybe we're talking about Michelle Obama). One thing I'll call: "I come not to praise Caesar but to bury him...." This is when you subtly do the thing you claim not to be doing.  Buttigieg says, "There's an old parlor game where you try to find daylight between a candidate and his running mate....and we could play that all night....We could ask why Pence, an evangelical Christian, has yoked himself to a man caught with a porn star.....We could ask about the immigration policy Pence once called unconstitutional....But I think the American people really just want to talk about being sure they have adequate health care coverage...."  It may be that some think that Americans just really want to talk about health care coverage--but, in his heart, Buttigieg knows that we are indeed interested in the Christ-loving zombie yoked to a man ca

Yale poet Louise Gluck just won the Nobel Prize for Literature. I'm no Gluck expert, but these are lines I like: In the splitting up dream we were fighting over who would keep the dog, Blizzard. You tell me what that name means. He was a cross between something big and fluffy and a dachshund. Does this have to be the male and female genitalia? Poor Blizzard, why was he a dog? He barely touched the hummus in his dogfood dish. Then there was something else, a sound. Like gravel being moved. Or sand? The speaker is addressing her ex-husband or ex-boyfriend. She is describing a dream. This involved a fight over ownership of a dog (a fictional dog) -- "Blizzard." The dog seems to represent the actual relationship; he is a cross between a big fluffy pelvic triangle and a penis ("a dachshund"). The dream grows stranger; there is untouched hummus in the dogfood dish. Then, from some other area of the house: a sound of sand moving? I like the fury and the who-gives-a-fuc

"The Crown" resumes on Nov. 15, and, as much as I grumble about aspects of this show (the self-indulgent pacing, the overly-tidy repackaging of actual historical events, the sentimental bits) .....I'm also SO EXCITED. Some thoughts, in preparation: *Helena Bonham Carter actually lost her Emmy Award. She lost to Julia Garner, from "Ozark." I think the Emmy Awards are unworthy of Helena Bonham Carter. I think, if you want to use your October wisely, you might rent "Corpse Bride," "Sweeney Todd," and "Enola Holmes." ("Enola" is over-praised, but things get lively whenever HBC appears.) *A long while ago, we were told that Sondheim Goddess Imelda Staunton would take over as Liz II in Season Five, and that Season Five would be The End. But: not so fast. There will in fact be a Season Six. There's too much material. *The teaser trailer is here, and it's like a long wet dream for any gay man. We hear Olivia Colman's v

  Josh and I like reading "Leaves," by David Ezra Stein. (Marc likes it, too.) This was one of DES's early books, and it made waves. It won an Ezra Jack Keats Award (more on EJK soon), and it was named, by Tomie dePaola, "the best picture book in years." It's simple. A bear, new to the world, has fun in the late summer. But he sees a falling leaf. He doesn't understand. He asks the leaf, "Are you OK?"   More leaves fall. Bereft, the bear grows sleepy, and he spots a hole for hibernating. When he awakes in the spring, he sees new leaves and welcomes them. "And he thought the leaves welcomed him, too." I think it's right that this book won the Ezra Jack Keats Award because--like "The Snowy Day"--this book centers on a young being with gaps in his knowledge. ("Save a snowball by storing it in your pocket." "A falling leaf is a leaf in trouble.") I also like the way that joy is dramatized at the end

If you have two gay dads in one house, then the Halloween planning discussions begin early. They begin in June, or July. Back then, Marc and I had a grand vision of a "Beauty and the Beast" theme: Josh as Chip, Marc as Mrs. Potts, and the third human family-member dressed as Belle. But: so much work. And who knew if trick-or-treating would even occur, in Covid times? We have downscaled. Josh will be dressing as a chicken. I'm not sure about his dads. You can't stream "Great Pumpkin"--which seems criminal--and ABC hasn't announced the air-dates yet. I would think somewhere around October 22, and then again on October 27 or 28. My family *does* own the first "Treehouse of Horror," and this holds up really well. It takes on Steven Spielberg, Stephen King, "Planet of the Apes," AND Edgar Allan Poe, at the least. In my favorite scene, Homer calls a broker to complain that he hadn't been told about the risks inherent in purchasing an an

Twitter induces headaches, but I can't look away. The reactions to Donald Trump's hospitalization could have been written months in advance. A certain group expressed glee. A second group self-righteously chastised the first group for having expressed glee. ("When they go low...." etc.) A third group chastised the second group for being self-righteous, and the anti-self-righteousness platform began to take on its *own* self-righteous glow. ("My thoughts are with the service workers....") I had two favorite responses to Trump's hospitalization. One came from Michael Che, on "SNL." Che said, "It may not be MORALLY right to make a joke about this.....but this is like the classic example of a joke..." Che went on to give a brief and delightful speech about situational irony. This is when actions have an opposite effect from what is intended. A teacher fails her own test. The cobbler forgets to provide his own son with shoes. "You'

 Tiffany Trump gave an odious speech recently. (Surprise!) Her vowels and consonants were a bit of a mess, but at times she seemed to be talking about "cancel culture." ( You should feel free to be racist and worry less about pesky consequences! ) She also seemed to be talking about "respecting all religions." ( Disguise your homophobia as a "statement of faith," and we'll fight to get you a seat on the Supreme Court! ) Chloe Fineman, my favorite actress, studied Trump's speech and reproduced it on Twitter. The fun parts are: difficulty with the term "relatable millennial," a strange bit of vowel trouble with the words "America" and "miracle," and of course (as always) THE WIG. This is not Fineman's sharpest satire (see her work on Drew Barrymore) but I'm here for "relatable millennial." I could watch those three seconds over and over. And, in fact, I already have..... https://twitter.com/chloefineman

  Adelaide's parents were surprised when they found that their daughter had wings....   "Adelaide" is a standard Tomi Ungerer tale without a moral.   A kangaroo is born with wings. She--Adelaide--feels compelled to experience the world. She befriends a pilot; when she tires of flying, she just rests on top of the plane. She sees a maharajah; she enjoys touring parts of India on the back of an elephant. Having tired of travel, Adelaide settles in Paris. She performs--briefly--as a chorus girl, but meets a zoo-exhibit, "Leon," and decides to start a family. Leon wins a divorce from the zoo and begins his new (enchanted!) life with Adelaide. If you have to read a story several times, then you want memorable details. "Adelaide" has the kangaroo distracted by a tiny dog during a press conference, the maharajah gesturing grandly with one arm, the peaceful elephant, the soaring plane in white space. It has the streets of Paris, and it has the spectacle of a

 Jeremy Strong just won the Emmy for Best Actor-Drama, and that's great, but my all-time favorite winner in this category is Buffalo native Kyle Chandler. You know the role. Here is what Lorrie Moore had to say: Chandler can do just about anything with a look. The expressive restraint of his smoldering gaze and his squinted grin of chagrin is one of the most intriguing aspects of FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS, even if it is over-relied on. When called on to say lines such as I'M OFFERING YOU EVERYTHING I GOT. THIS IS NOT JUST ABOUT FOOTBALL. I BEG OF YOU: THINK ABOUT WHAT I JUST SAID, he makes the words pierce and soar. When he says to his team, LISTEN UP, GENTLEMEN, it doesn't much matter what he actually says afterward: everyone is drawn to attention. And when at a coaches' poker game he gets up to leave early, saying, I'VE BEEN CHEATING ALL NIGHT, LOOKING AT HIS CARDS, AND I STILL CAN'T BEAT HIM, the line reading is such that we know he is actually a bit tipsy and miss